Tell Me You Love Me
by MidnightBlue88
Summary: Five years later, Allison still doesn’t know why he hasn’t left. AndyAllison, oneshot. Rated for sexual content.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Breakfast Club or any of its members. Which is a good thing, for Andy's sake, because he has been a bad, _bad_ boy.  
**Rating: **M for language and sexual content.  
**Warning: **This story contains sexual content. It is an integral part of the plot, and it's not very graphic.  
**Summary: **Five years later, Allison still doesn't know why he hasn't left. One-shot.  
**A/N: **Andy and Allison have been so repressed in all of my fics that I decided that it was time to give them a little bit of alone time with one another. Besides, Andy's got all that juicy pent-up anger inside. He's gotta release it somehow. ;)

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**Tell Me You Love Me**

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Allison Reynolds sat in front of her easel, glaring at the picture in front of her. It wasn't working, and after five hours she still wasn't sure why. Something with the shadowing maybe. Something was off about the depth. It felt two-dimensional.

Allison let out a frustrated breath and stood from her chair. She walked into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator door, searching for something to drink. There was a bottle of milk--whole, because he hated skim milk, and she didn't care either way--but it was almost empty. She'd meant to do down to the corner store after lunch, but she'd been so distracted by the painting that she'd forgotten. As usual.

She grabbed a can of Coke--almost out of those, too--and went back to the living room, where the easel was set up. For a few minutes, she stood there, a few feet away, and sipped her soda. From a distance, she could kind of see where she'd messed up. In the picture, the curtains were drawn back, and the room was illuminated by soft sunlight coming in from the window. The angle of the sunlight was off, by just a little bit, and somehow even that little bit was throwing the entire picture off balance.

Allison huffed angrily, blowing her bangs away from her face. If only she'd realized this earlier, she might have saved herself a lot of grief. The light was going to be hard to fix, and her only saving grace was the fact that she used oils instead of water-based paints, which dried quicker. Even so, it was going to take hours to undo what she'd spent the better part of the day working on. Allison sighed and reached for her basket of brushes.

She'd just finished mixing her paints when she heard a key turn in the door. Her heart skipped a beat, and she looked up to see Andy open the door to the tiny apartment. He was wearing a suit and tie, and he was carrying a briefcase in his right hand.

"Hey."

Andy looked up, and Allison could see that his brow was furrowed as if he was thinking about something. "Hey," he responded tiredly.

"How was your day?"

He set his briefcase down by the door and let out a deep sigh. "Fine."

Allison watched him as he took off his coat and tossed it over the arm of the sofa chair in the living room. He glanced over at the easel, which was facing away from him. "Were you painting all day?" he asked.

Allison nodded. "You can't see it yet. It isn't finished."

Andy nodded distractedly, and she realized that he wasn't going to ask to see it anyway. "Were you here all day?"

Allison looked down at her clothes. She was dressed in her underwear and one of Andy's old tank tops that she'd stolen to use as a night shirt. It was the same thing she'd worn to bed the night before. "Yeah, I was."

"So, I guess that means that you didn't mail the payment for the electric bill." Andy shook his head and reached up to loosen his ties. "The fucking lights are going to go out. That's just great," he said bitterly.

Allison didn't know what to say to that. "It's just one day. I'll take it tomorrow."

"No, it's fine. I'll mail it," he said shortly. "I should have just done it in the first place."

Allison frowned. "I'll _do_ it."

Andy shook his head. "No, I'll take care of it."

Allison felt the anger rising in her chest. "I said I'll do it tomorrow!" she exclaimed.

Andy glanced over at her, eyes narrowed. "That's what you said yesterday."

"Well, I'll really do it this time." She paused, searching his face for signs of what was really wrong. "Did you have a bad day at work?"

Andy clenched his jaw. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Whenever you have a bad day, you start getting nervous about the bills," she said. When he didn't respond, she took a deep breath. "You don't have to stay there, you know. You can quit."

"Oh, yeah?" Andy asked. "And then how are we going to pay for everything?"

Allison sighed. "You can get another job, a better one."

Andy scoffed. "Yeah, because it's just _that_ easy. Do you know how hard it was to get the job I have now?"

"Yes," Allison answered. She remembered the months after graduation that he'd spent searching, that _they'd_ spent searching. "I remember."

"Then you know I can't just quit and go find another one." He threw his tie on the sofa chair on top of the coat.

Allison stared at him. "You're not happy there."

"It doesn't matter if I'm happy!" he shouted. "What matters is that we have food and a place to sleep at night and that the electric bill gets paid once a month. One of us has to work."

Allison's mouth opened, but no words came out. So, this wasn't just about work. It was about her. "I thought you wanted me to paint," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady.

Andy sighed. "I do," he said unconvincingly.

Allison was watching him closely. "Then why are you so mad?" she asked desperately.

Andy's eyes flashed. "Because I'm the only one paying the goddamn bills around here!" he yelled.

Allison felt the tears pricking the back of her eyes. "Don't shout at me!"

Andy let out a frustrated breath. "You had all day, Allison. Nine hours! You sit around and paint, but you can't even pay one bill. You just expect me to do everything. To pay for everything."

Allison shook her head, trying to keep the tears in check. She wondered if it was possible to love and hate someone at the same time. Maybe she should ask Claire about that. "You're being mean," she told Andy.

Andy scoffed and turned away, going back into their bedroom. A few seconds later, she heard him jerk open the closet door and start rummaging around. A loud thud, and she knew he'd thrown his shoes against the wall.

Allison plopped down on the couch, angry and hurt and a million other things that didn't even have a name. Was that how Andy saw her? As someone to take care of, to clean up after? She leaned back to rest her head against the arm of the couch, letting her tears make patterns on the dark blue cushion.

When they'd first moved in together, Andy was still a senior at the University of Chicago, and Allison was studying painting at an art school downtown. Their only source of income came from Allison's job at a local restaurant, and they were poor as church mice, but she didn't care. She loved waking up next to him every morning, loved to watch him while he slept. He was a heavy sleeper, and he looked so vulnerable in that position, with his eyes closed and one arm flung over his chest, that she couldn't help but stare.

A few months later, Allison dropped out of art school to get more hours at the restaurant. Andy graduated a few months later and got a job with a local investment firm. It went well at first, especially with all of the extra money coming in, but when Allison quit work at the restaurant to pursue her own work with her painting, things started falling apart. Andy hated his job, and he came home tired and irritable more than not. Allison's painting was going well, but that didn't mean much because she still wasn't making any money from it. Andy stopped sleeping so hard, and after he caught Allison staring at him a couple of times, she stopped watching him.

Allison didn't know much about relationships. Andy was her first boyfriend, so she didn't have any experience of her own, and she didn't know if this was normal or not, if everybody went through this. To her, normal was eating dinner in total silence, trying to ignore her parents, who were ignoring her and glaring at one another. She didn't want that. She hoped that her family wasn't normal, because it hurt her to think that those two people glaring at one another from across the dining room table were going to be she and Andy one day.

Allison closed her eyes, burrowing further into the worn-out couch cushion. She worried about their futures together, but she also worried about their futures apart. What if Andy left her? She didn't like to think about that, but it was becoming more and more of a possibility as the months went on. In fact, if she was honest, it had been a possibility all along, and she'd been waiting for it to happen for five years, ever since that first meeting in detention. She'd waited for it on Monday, and she'd kept waiting for it as the school year went on. After they graduated, she waited for him to meet someone new at college, to come to his senses and dump her. She waited, but it never came. Five years later, she still didn't know why. She didn't know why he hadn't left.

Suddenly, Allison heard the floor creak. She looked up to see Andy standing in front of her, still dressed in his work clothes. His shirt was unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. He was looking down at her, and his jaw was clenched, but his eyes were tired.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said quietly.

Allison managed a stiff nod and looked down at his bare forearms, at the taut muscles and the light blonde hairs. He was so beautiful.

Andy sat down next to her on the couch, but Allison didn't move or reach out to touch him, even though she wanted to. He put his hand on her leg, running his palm along the inside of her bare calf. He was watching her closely, waiting for her to respond.

"I'm sorry I didn't pay the bill," she said quietly. "I was working, and I--" She stopped, wondering if she was just making it worse.

But Andy just nodded, rubbing her ankle with his thumb.

Allison looked up, and their eyes met. She wondered if it was normal for someone as young as Andy to have dark circles under his eyes. Tentatively, she reached up and ran her fingertips along the top of his cheek, and he released a breath into her palm.

Allison's breath caught in her throat as a wave of tenderness rolled over her. Even five years later, she still wondered how it was possible to love someone so much. Did it happen that way with everyone, or were they different? Surely no one else felt the same for another person as she did for Andy. Surely no one else felt that crushing affection, that painful tenderness that started in the pit of her stomach and never let up, even when he was away. Surely they were the only ones. The world wasn't big enough.

Tentatively, Allison sat up on the couch and leaned forward so that their faces were only inches apart. Andy paused, then leaned forward and brought their mouths together. He kissed her slowly, the way he used to back in high school when she was still so new at everything. He still tasted like peppermint gum, the same flavor he kept stashed in his back pocket.

After a moment, Allison slipped her hands inside of his open shirt and let her fingers trail down to his stomach, brushing against the waistband of his trousers. He'd already removed his belt, so she started unzipping his pants, pushing them away from his body. Andy helped her remove them, then leaned over so that he was lying halfway on top of her. She could feel his fingers skimming the hem of her tank top, pushing the fabric away to glide his fingers over her abdomen. It was building, that beautiful ache in the bottom of her stomach.

_Tell me I'm the only person you'll ever want. Tell me you can't stand it when I'm not with you, that you hate leaving in the morning because you won't see me all day. Tell me you'll never leave me._

By the time he'd pulled the last of the clothes from their bodies, Allison was practically shaking. She reached around to put her arms around his back and pulled him down on top of her, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. He entered her slowly, but she pushed her hips up, desperate to be close to him. He let out a soft moan and leaned down to kiss her again. His arms were wrapped around her back, and his elbows were resting against the cushions to keep himself propped up. She felt his fingers digging softly into her shoulder blades, right where her heart was.

"_You just expect me to do everything."_

Allison let out a choked sob. "Tell me you love me," she said.

Andy looked down at her, right into her eyes. "I love you."

Allison felt the tears coming up again. "No," she said breathlessly. "No, _tell_ me."

Andy let out a shaky breath and pulled her tighter against his chest. He closed his eyes and leaned forward so that their foreheads were pressed together, then thrust into her again. Their mouths brushed together, just barely, and Allison felt the tears pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

Andy was breathing heavily, and she could feel the warmth against her lips and cheeks. He moved inside of her again, and she gasped, pressing her fingertips harder against his back. Again, and Allison was flooded with heat, starting where their bodies were joined and spreading out all over her body. Andy kept going, pushing himself farther into her, again and again.

"Allison…" he murmured, burying himself inside of her one final time.

The two of them lay there for a few seconds, recovering. Finally, Andy took a deep breath and started to roll off of her, but she tightened her legs around his waist to keep him in place. "No," she whispered into his ear. "Stay here, just…just for a minute."

Andy looked down at her, frowning slightly. He didn't move off of her, just reached up and ran the pad of his thumb under her eye, collecting the tears that had gathered.

"What's wrong?" he asked. The same words he'd used that first day in detention. She shook her head.

"Allison," he said, more insistently this time.

Allison looked up at him, vision blurred slightly by the tears. "Nothing," she whispered.

Andy frowned doubtfully, but didn't say anything. The minutes passed, and they stayed like that on the couch, with their arms wrapped around each other, not saying anything. Allison felt the knots in her stomach start to untangle themselves, and her breathing returned to normal.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally.

Allison nodded hesitantly, not ready for him to let go.

"Because my legs are starting to cramp up."

Allison let out a little squeak of a laugh, and he smiled. She released him from her tight grip, and he climbed off of her, standing up next to the couch. She must have looked a little bit panicked, because he said, "I'm just going to get something to drink."

Allison nodded. "Okay."

Andy grabbed his boxers and pulled them on, then walked into the kitchen. She heard him pull open the refrigerator door and start rummaging around. Then, "Great, we're almost out of milk."

Allison felt her stomach tighten up again. "Yeah." She waited for him to say something else, about how she was supposed to go shopping that day, but he didn't. She heard him shut the door to the fridge and open up the pantry. A few seconds later, he came back out into the living room, wiping his mouth with his forearm.

"I'm going to go down to the corner store," he told her, picking his pants up off of the floor. "Do you want me to get you some more Cokes?"

Allison nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Yeah, sure."

Andy pulled his shirt on and buttoned it up again, then grabbed his coat from the chair where he'd left it when he first got home. He bent over and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "I'll be back in a minute."

Allison watched him walk out into the hallway and close the door, locking it behind him. His footsteps echoed loudly in the stairwell. Three floors down, and then she heard nothing. The apartment felt so empty.

Slowly, Allison stood from the sofa. Her clothes were still scattered on the floor, the underwear right next to the couch and the tank top under the coffee table. She picked them up and put them back on, then walked over to her easel.

For a long time, she didn't move, just stared at the painting that she knew by heart. It was a picture of a room that looked exactly like theirs, with sunlight coming in through the curtains exactly the way it did early in the morning when Andy got up for work. Sitting on the bed was a young man wearing a pair of trousers and an unbuttoned work shirt. He was leaning forward, shoulders hunched over, his head resting in his hands.

_Tell me I'm the only person you'll ever want. Tell me you can't stand it when I'm not with you, that you hate leaving in the morning because you won't see me all day. Tell me you'll never leave me._

Allison sat down in her chair and reached for her paintbrush.

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A/N: Please review. Thank you.


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